Repeating Apologies
by EndlessWonderland
Summary: Dying at 7 sucked. But being reborn as a host to some beast hated by everyone sucked even worse. SI OC. Self-Insert
1. Chapter 1

**Self-insert Alert. **

**I made this on a whim. I really did. I really need the motivation to write. So much sh*t's been going on and I've been so overworked. Finals are coming up and then Christmas. Ugh.**

**I can't wait.**

**Oh, I turned 16 last Wednsday xD**

**So that's good.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto.**  
**

**Summary:** _Dying at 7 sucked. But being reborn as a host to some beast hated by everyone sucked even worse. SI OC. Self-Insert_

**(^w^)**

Life sucked.

Just that.

Being a 7 year-old girl and being diagnosed with cancer wasn't something you would want to hear.

The tumors in my stomach and the ones in my bones didn't go away. I had had numerous surgeries to remove all the tumors, but they always came back.

I didn't have just one cancer. No, I was one of the unlucky ones. I had two different cancers that affected two different places. One affected my bones, it was called Osteosarcoma. A big and annoying word that basically meant I had tumors growing in my joints and on my bones. Most of the time, people who had it lost limbs. I – for instance – lost my left leg, two of my toes on my right foot, a pinky finger on my left and nearly my entire right arm, I was left with a small stubble at the top. The doctor's hoped that the tumors would stop spreading, but I knew that if the cancer liked me enough it would stay. And unfortunately it did.

I hated that the disease struck me, because it was more commonly found in males than females from the ages of 10-19 – something that I found sucked because I was 7 and I was a female, both things being infrequent.

My other cancer was a stomach one. Gastrointestinal stromal tumour; or GIST for short. The tumors grew from the cells of the connective tissue that support the organs of the digestive tract (in English it meant that I had tumors growing in my stomach and intestines.). I couldn't eat normal, because whenever I did I would end up throwing it back up, so I was forced onto fluids that were poured down my throat through a small, clear tube and an IV kept me hydrated. I also had to be forced to urinate since my intestine didn't work right. I couldn't feel when I had to go to the restroom so my parents or the doctors told me to go every hour and a half.

It was just a case of misfortune. That was what my numerous doctors had said. But I was still alive – a stroke of luck apparently.

My parents saw it differently. They saw it as unlucky. They saw it as them losing their eldest daughter. They saw it as a tragedy despite me still being alive. They saw it as something bad because my younger sister wouldn't have someone to look up too and learn from.

I knew that too. I mean, I was sick and it was happening to my own body. I knew that I was going to die, because my body was screaming death and my mind kept telling me I was going to die; sickness just leaked from me. The doctor's had given me another month or so before the tumors spread to my vital organs and onto my heart. I was scheduled to have my other leg removed but when the cancers began taking a turn for the worse, they cancelled it, saying that it wouldn't have helped since it was beyond healing. So now that leg was useless and lay limp next to my other stump.

It was clear to me that the doctor's had given up. There was nothing nobody could do. It was just something that happened. Something that couldn't be helped. I was destined to have this. It was my fate.

My bone cancer grew worse. When the doctor's decided to do a full body scan a few weeks after the amputation of my finger, I lit up like the Christmas trees my parents got every year for the joyous holiday. Christmas was also when my birthday was so it was always a happy thought. It wasn't anymore to my parents.

They were really good people, both holding stable jobs. My mom being on leave (more like she quit) to take care of my infant sister and also to make sure I was still holding on and to teach me; though I didn't really need all the teachings. I learned by watching and hearing what everyone else was saying. I was pretty smart at 7 years of age being over observant of my surroundings and taking in account of nearly everything I saw, heard or smelled, but my parents didn't know that. They just saw me as a child who was dying.

I didn't go to school. I never had the luxury too. Sure, I went to kindergarten for a couple months but when I was diagnosed I was forced to leave. Forced to leave behind the girls I had grown close too, my teacher who was super nice and always smelled like cookies, even my best guy friend who was always running around and playing fun games with me.

Running.

Believe it or not that was something I missed. When my leg had been removed at age 6, I lost the ability to walk let alone run. I couldn't use a prosthetic because it would've been too much and the fitting would've taken to long, I most likely wouldn't have needed it. I missed being able to run around happy and carefree. I missed the feeling of the wind in my hair – that was something else that had been taken. The radiation the doctor's used in a vain attempt to shrink the tumors caused my stark black hair to fall out so it was thin and buzzed short. I missed being able to roll around in the dirt and chase my friends without coughing up blood or getting sick.

I couldn't climb anything either. I mean, I tried to but my arm was taken when I was 6 and a half soon after my left leg was surgically removed. I never learned how to properly climb a tree nor did I learn how to use the monkey bars because I wasn't strong enough and I only had one functioning arm that was beginning to lose fingers.

My body was deteriorating fast and there was absolutely nothing anybody could do. My parents continued to pay for treatments and I felt bad. They were wasting their money on something that was futile. I was dying and whatever treatment they tried just didn't work. The doctor's; highly educated and very intelligent doctors were stumped. They didn't have a clue on why the cancers had decided to come to me and combine so they did double the damage. It was like; I wasn't supposed to be here in the first place. Like I was supposed to be somewhere else and this was God's way of saying so.

I came to a conclusion that I wanted to die. I didn't want to waste my parent's money anymore. I wanted them to spoil my little sister – whom I had very briefly got to know for a few months before I was separated from her because the doctor's didn't want her to get sick. I wanted my parents to save up their money and stop throwing it down the toilet on something useless. Besides if I wasn't supposed to even be here, then why keep trying?

Nothing could help my situation no matter what was tried. I just didn't want to feel like a burden on them anymore.

But still, my body held on. Either by some miracle or the sheer power of my brain telling it constantly to stay alive and my heart to keep beating. It hurt – both physically and emotionally. I could still feel my missing limbs and I always got happy when I felt one of them twitch but when I would look, my depression would arise because nothing would be there. My mental stability dropped and so did my mortality so I was no longer happy and I no longer smiled. My bones always ached and my chest always contracted like I was suffocating and my stomach got unbearably coiled cramps and I couldn't eat without throwing it back up along with bile. I had lost so much weight I looked like a skin-covered skeleton. I lay in the same hospital bed I had when I was first emitted. This time no longer healthy and barely being diagnosed but instead wasting away in the final stage of my cancers.

I knew that soon enough I would pass. I could feel it in the air around me. The atmosphere between my parents and doctors had been changing every day. My body was growing steadily weaker and I was losing important nutrients.

I grew closer to my expiration date. When I was on the brink of death my parents began telling me how much they loved me and how much they appreciated me being their daughter. They cried a lot around me, even as the time changed and the sky grew darker. They told me stories of when I was a baby and they said that they would always be beside me even if I couldn't touch them physically.

I had gotten emotional. But that soon changed when I began sleeping much more often and I lost the ability to move and speak. I couldn't tell them I loved them and I couldn't say that I would miss them too.

Some of my cousins came to visit. But I was barely conscious to hear what they were saying. I could just hear them crying.

I didn't want people crying over me. It just made me feel worse.

A few more days passed and I knew my body was about ready to give out. The tumors had spread very rapidly to the majority of my bones in my skeletal system and the tumors in my stomach multiplied so I was forced to be fed constantly through an IV. I couldn't even feel them anymore because the pain was too much I had numbed myself to it.

My eyesight had been darkening and I was vaguely aware of my parents bringing in a tiny, lit up Christmas tree. Oh yeah, it was nearly my birthday again. What a fun way to go out.

More we love you's were said and more kisses and hugs were said and tears shed. I couldn't stop myself from crying because I would miss them.

I felt my body grow numb and I knew it was time. I closed my eyes and laid back into my Spiderman pillow, my blue blanket over me and tucked at my sides. I was dressed in my favorite pajamas, and I had my favorite stuffed animals piled around me. I felt the bed shift and my parents sat on either side of me. I heard a baby and I knew my sister was there.

I wanted to touch her. I wanted to hold her. And I wanted to say something but I couldn't. It sucked.

My eyesight faded and I was beginning to struggle with each breath. I felt my chest contract and I gave off a large shudder that pulsed through my entire body.

I let my face fall into a smile. I guess I was happy to be dying. I wouldn't be a burden on my parents anymore and they wouldn't have to spend up their money on useless medicines and worthless treatments.

Maybe now they would spoil my sister and give her as much love and care as they did me. I mean, she deserved it much more than I ever did.

I felt my parents hold onto me before the feeling faded away. I heard more I love you's and they said that they were proud of me and it was okay for me to let go that I had done my job and I would be safe.

The smile on my face never left as everything faded away and the beeping of my heart monitor stilled as I gave my last breath.

At least I died happy.

**(^w^)**

**I'll post the first chapter right after this one. I have it written and you'll find out more information about her family.**

**-EndlessWonderland**


	2. Chapter 2

**First real chapter :3**

**Hope you guys like. I am going to try and develop character and detailing as much as possible. I want to get better.**

**Also, guys you should seriously check out Darkpetal16's stories. They are absolutely A-FREAKING-MAZING! I love her style so much. She is a fabulous writer.**

**Seriously. Go check her out. You won't regret it c;**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto.**  
**

**Summary: **_Dying at 7 sucked. But being reborn as a host to some beast hated by everyone sucked even worse. SI OC. Self-Insert_

**(^w^)**

When I died, I believed that there would be a person waiting for me as I walked – yes walked – towards them and they would reach out their arms and pull me into a warm embrace and I would be welcomed into Heaven were I would live for the rest of eternity. Out of pain and free to do as I pleased.

Oh how wrong I was.

When I opened my eyes it was very sticky and all I saw was darkness. I couldn't feel anything but water and I heard a faint heartbeat from above. I kicked and squirmed but I was encased in a slimy membrane.

Oh how weird. I should be walking up to the gates of Heaven, ready to move on. I couldn't figure what was going on.

Then there was pressure. And then it was released and I saw light.

Finally!

But I didn't see Heaven. I couldn't see anything in fact, it was all fuzzy. I tried speaking but it came out as a cry.

A loud, screaming wail to be specific.

What's going on?

I couldn't think straight. I couldn't do much if I were to be brutally honest. There were voices all around me, some loud, some quiet but most were rushed and frantic. I couldn't understand what they were saying, it was all foreign.

Then I was picked up and there was air as I was rushed somewhere. I kept crying the whole time.

Reincarnation? Was that even possible. There was no way I could be a baby again.

But maybe I was. Maybe I was supposed to be a baby again. Maybe this was the place I really belonged. I mean, why else would I be born here. Wherever _here_ was exactly.

And then there was a slam of a door and silence.

What was happening now?

I could hear whoever it was speaking to someone and then I heard a sizzle. I was suddenly terrified and my cries increased in number and volume. Someone beside me gave a groan of a sort and he sounded like he was in pain.

And then I felt someone place a cool palm on my forehead and another on my stomach. And then I was aware of something being channeled into me and my wails once more increased until I believed my throat to run raw from the dry screams. The man next to me gave off similar yells, but his were much deeper and less abundant then my high-pitched wails.

I was beginning to feel full of whatever it was and it was beginning to hurt. The pressure on my middle increased and it felt like it was going up my spine and into my head. I felt like I was being blown up with air like a balloon and that I would soon pop from the pressure. I screamed trying to squirm away, but my small body wasn't very strong nor did it move very fast. I had alright motor control considering I had just been born.

Reborn. That word still resounded through my brain, I couldn't shake it off because being reborn was impossible. But, if I really was a newborn baby how come I couldn't see my mother? Or my father? Did I have any siblings? I wondered all of this - along with the fact that I wasn't 7 and dying but a healthy, newborn - as the pressure increased to the point I became dizzy. I felt my consciousness ebb away and the next thing I knew.

I had passed out.

When I regained my consciousness I was very sore all around. I finally could see where I was. I blinked away the spots from my eyes and I looked to the sides. I was lying in a silver crib – probably (most likely) metallic – and the room around me was brightly lit. I felt a blanket on me and I kicked my feet, feeling the thin but warm fabric on my toes.

I couldn't see anyone or hear them, but I had a feeling that they were watching me. But it was just a hunch. I was beginning to feel better when I felt a steady throb in the back of my head and I gave a pained cry, feelings tears form once more before they slid down my face.

It hurt. So bad. I couldn't move again and when I swiveled my head it felt heavy. I heard a door open nearby and my eyes snapped to it, though I could only see from my peripheral vision.

I saw a man walk over. He was dressed in all red, with a brown jacket around his shoulders and ending at the bottom of his stomach, and his pants were a faded black so they looked gray. He looked behind him and stopped momentarily, I watched as he gave a subtle nod.

Then he gave a deep breath and turned back, walking over. I laid my head straight, wincing internally at the pain. I looked up at him attempting to reach my hands up but the strain was too much so I scratched that and proceeded to give a coo, my feet kicking, since they didn't hurt too bad.

He smiled down at me, his dark amber eyes contrasting with his tanned and slightly wrinkled face and scruffy chin. His black and gray peppered hair fell over his eyes and he pushed it back before reaching a hand down. He wasn't that young, that was for sure, maybe in his early 40's.

I was wary, of course but when his warm and calloused hand cupped my cheek I relaxed. He wasn't a threat. No, he was my dad. I could just tell from the way he looked at me and the way he gently made sure I was okay. I couldn't help but give a soft rumble that came from my lips. I rubbed my cheek into his palm and I heard him give off a laugh. It sounded nice.

I hadn't heard a laugh in a long while.

He opened his mouth and words that I didn't know came from it.

"Kon'nichiwa watashi no kodomo…" was what he said. I looked up at him furrowing my brow. And then he reached his other hand down and he brought it under me. Then he lifted me and held me to his shoulder. I was rocked and I snuggled close to his neck seeking the warmth. I felt his hand move up and rest on my back and his other was under my bottom. He smelled like ash and trees, with an underlying scent of stone – which I found to smell incredibly delightful and I wondered where we lived. If he smelled like trees then we must live close to a forest. Or maybe a mountain since he did have the scent of stone on his clothing. I didn't really know but I was extremely curious.

Then there was a cough and my dad gave a deep sigh that reverberated through his body. I was confused. But then he set me down back into the crib and I felt him tuck the blanket around me. Immediately the earlier pain before he arrived returned and I whimpered.

He leaned down to kiss my head before smoothing my cheek – his eyes weren't the bright and happy steel gray but now they were sad and full of anguish, "Sayōnara Mizuma…" and with that he turned and started walking away.

_Wait. No please, don't leave… please don't leave me._ I thought beginning to feel scared. I felt my bottom lip quiver as my eyes filled up with tears and I started crying again. I didn't want him to leave me. My cries increased into wails and I felt my body grow heavy again. I noticed his footsteps faltered and I had a small spark of hope that he would come back, but he clenched his fists and kept going.

I continued my crying as I became incredibly sleepy. I whimpered as the cries started to fade from my chest and the tears kept flowing as I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

I never really left the room I was in. Time seemed to pass rather quickly in the blank room. When I reached the young age of 9 months, people began to visit me.

People I didn't know. Some of them were nice and others looked at me with displeasure. I was confused as to why they looked at me like that. I mean, I never did anything wrong to make them angry, right? Maybe it was because I could speak very, very minimally since I learned whenever they came in.

I soaked up the information very quickly like I had when I was sick in the hospital. But the difference between being in the hospital and here in this new place was that I could move and essentially do what I want as long as I didn't leave the room.

I had my legs, arms, all my fingers and toes and I wasn't permanently ill with disease. It was nice. More than nice, it was absolutely fantastic. I was incredibly happy to learn that I could move that I forced myself how to crawl when I was 4 months and how to walk – even unsteadily – by the time I was 7 and a half months old.

My walking had been improving and I was itching to start running, but I was still a bit to unsteady and my body still felt heavy even though I was becoming accustomed to it. I once showed the people who came in to change me and give me my daily bottles my ability to walk and two of them praised me with smiles and good words while the other one looked on with displeasure.

After my first year another man came to see me. He spoke softly and I instantly recognized the voice. It was the man in pain who was next to me when I was first brought to the strange room.

At least I could get a better look at him. The first thing I noticed about him was that he was very, very tall and wore a weird kind of clothing. It looked plated and was a dark red from beneath a black, open shirt with the sleeves torn off. He also had white cloths covering the top and sides of his head, from what I could see from beneath his hat. The plated-clothing covered up to the middle of his nose and then he looked down at me, his light brown eyes softening slightly. They seemed to hold regret. I was confused, what could he be possibly regretful about.

I saw him step a bit closer and I sat up from where I had been playing with a doll that someone had given me as a first birthday gift. I tilted my head curiously, my white hair falling over my shoulder, the light blonde tips appearing darker against my blue outfit.

He squatted down in front of me and extended a hand. He looked nervous now, like he didn't know what to do around me. I looked at his hand before reaching forward and grabbing onto the index finger since that was all my small hand could reach onto. I pulled myself up using his hand as support and stood in front of him.

His eyes crinkled slightly and I walked forward until I was at his legs. I cooed up at him, reaching a hand upward. I heard him give a chuckle before his hands wrapped around my middle and he lifted me up. I was brought to his face and I put my hands on either side of his face. He gave me a smile through his eyes before standing straight and I was high up in the air.

I cooed and pulled on his cheek, giving off a laugh when he flinched away. I clapped my hands together awkwardly and pursed my lips before blowing air through them, causing a sound to come out.

He laughed and I saw his eyes close partially as he did. And then he rubbed my nose to his before walking around a little bit. He hummed softly too me and I felt myself relax. I yawned and buried my head into his clothed neck, right before the plating. It was surprisingly warm.

He said something softly to me before holding my firmly and pulling me away from his shoulder and right in front of his face. I flared my nostrils and blinked at him and he blinked back.

Then he brought me close and put my small forehead to his wide one, rubbing my tiny nose to his from beneath the covering on his face. He was being so kind too me. It was so weird, because I didn't know who he was.

The happiness ended nearly all too soon. He looked at me and put his clothed lips to my forehead and then he carried me to my crib. I rubbed my eyes as he laid me down and tucked me into my bed, making sure I was warm. He went to get my doll and brought it over to me and I took it from him.

He placed a hand on my head and smoothed my hair before rubbing my cheek. And then he left.

I didn't know it before, but this man's name was Han and he was one of my older brothers.

**(^w^)**

**I know how much of a risk I am doing by making her the younger sister of Han. But it just had to be done. I really love the five-tails. She/He is one of my favorite Biju in the series. **

**The reason she has it is because: Han hated the demon from the beginning. Since it caused him hate from the villagers. He agreed to have the biju transferred to his sister when she was born because she was the strongest of the siblings in their mother's stomach and she had a stronger chakra signal.**

**So Han feels a bit regretful that he forced the demon inside his youngest sibling. The villager's don't know about the switch so Han takes the hate.**

**You'll see more later.**

**I hope you guys like my choices.**

**Oh.**

**QOTD: **_Would you guys like this to be a regular occurrence? The questions I mean_

**p.s. I have the majority of the plot written out. **

**-EndlessWonderland**


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